We Remember
by Quenching Fire
Summary: A series of shorts to honor the tributes of the 74 Hunger Games. The odds were not in their favor but we will remember them.  Take a look into their past and learn what made them the people we knew.  Glimmer, Cato, Thresh, and the tributes of Panem.
1. Marvel

"Marvel Meriwether!" It was those two words, my own name, that killed me. As of that moment I was a dead man. Forget the fact that I was still breathing, my heart was still pumping, my brain still functioning. These actions simply prolonged my death.

You see, I'm not what people call normal. Three years ago during training, while practicing with another boy, I hit my head on the sharp corner of a wooden beam. Everyone thought I was dead. About two hours later I woke up surrounded by my family, but I didn't know who they were. I didn't remember anything about anything, myself, my family, my life. It's been three years and I still don't remember anything from before the accident. I've made new memories but even now it's hard to hold onto them. Things like, what I ate for breakfast, what I learned in school the day before are difficult to remember. Events from a month or year ago are almost impossible. The doctor told my family that I suffered from amnesia when I hit my head, but that in my case, I would never recover the memories I lost. They don't have a reason that I still have memory loss.

Not only that but I still black out a lot. If I'm ever put under a lot of pressure my brain just shuts off. My brain isn't the only part of me that was affected, my body function, muscle control, and fine motor skills were greatly altered. I used to be the top of my training class, when I went back after the accident I could barely hold a spear, let alone throw it. I've improved since then, but I'll never be anywhere near good enough, not for the Hunger Games.

I stood on the stage with District One's representative, a flighty women who was dressed completely in blue. Her hair eyes, lips, clothing. Everything was blue. Her skin, along with being a shade of dusty blue, was covered in sparkles. Every year she chooses a different gem to portray. This year I think her theme was diamond. I stood next to her as she called out for volunteers. _This is District One, _I thought, _Surely someone will volunteer. _Not a single person stepped forward and so I was whisked off to say my last goodbyes.

My parents came in first. I was their only child so this must have been a real heartbreaker for them. As if sending off any child to the Hunger Games is easy, imagine sending your only child. I tried to hold it together for them but as my mom approached me I lost my brave demeanor. A few tears slid down my face before I blacked out. I woke up on the couch, my mom was sitting next to me, stroking my hair and my dad was standing nearby holding my hand. I could tell from their faces that they knew this was the end.

The train ride to the Capitol was short, mainly because the train was so fast, but also because District One is the closest District to the Capitol. On the six hour ride I became better acquainted with my mentor, Christopher Cox, and my district partner, Glimmer Goldspell. They were alike the two of them. Wealthy, well known, with picture perfect appearances. Christopher was tall with dark curly hair and a four o'clock shadow that never seemed to go away. He had five golden rings in each ear. One for every year he mentored. The ones with diamonds in them represent the time a District One tribute has won the Games. There are six of those. Glimmer was as picturesque as a porcelain doll and about as fragile. Not physically, she was clever and quick on her feet in training, but emotionally. A single negative word and she would press her lips together and remain silent the rest of the day. All of the boys simple fell over at her feet, but she never wanted any of them. Glimmer was as masked as a masquerade dancer. No one knew what was going on behind her pretty face and matching demeanor.

My stylist walked in as the prep team finished their work. After asking me to get dressed in a pair of brown shorts and a white shirt she circled me. I felt on edge, as though I had something to prove to this absolute stranger. I stood up as straight as I could and used all of the techniques I had learned in the presentation part of my training. When she completed her third circle, she looked up at my face and gave a curt nod then dismissed me.

So I was left in the blank white room, completely unsure of what to do. I heard a click and turned my head trying to find the noise. A table slid soundlessly through a hole in the floor that wasn't there a second ago. I went and sat down on the couch next to the table and, since I didn't have anything better to do, I ate.

I stepped up to meet Glimmer in our chariot. She was one of the most glorious things I'd ever seen. Dressed in a white dress with diamonds at the top, the hem, the cuffs of her sleeve, a sheer silver overlay of silver was draped around her body, and her skin was glowing and almost sparkling, our escort must have had a say in that. I was dressed a bit less sparkly. I too had on a white tunic but the diamonds were left off. We both had thin silver bands made of metal, hers inlaid with more diamonds, that rested on our heads. Our horses almost matched us, the chariot did too. As we came out the crowds began to cheer, but it was all for Glimmer. Her name was the only one I heard. Not a single person screamed my name, nor took any notice of me. At the end of the chariot ride I turned to her and said,

"The people love you." She turned and looked at me with a look on her face that I couldn't quite interpret, gave a small smile and turned away.

The training days were a blur. I left the decision up to Glimmer whether she wanted to be trained separately or not. She choose together. I'm not sure why maybe she thought I was hiding something but regardless, I still don't remember most of what we did. The interviews came and went. The most I can say on my behalf was that I didn't make a fool of myself and I didn't black out. That in itself was an accomplishment. That night I didn't sleep a wink dreading the next few days.

Three...Two...One...I took off running as hard as I could. I didn't care where to I just needed to get away from the Cornucopia. I knew I was going to die but, if I could help it, I wouldn't die in a painful way. Preferably I'd simple die of thirst. This lasted about two days. I just couldn't stand sitting around, and I knew the Gamemakers couldn't stand it either. I began to move looking out for other tributes and Gamemaker traps. I began to find things, things other tributes had dropped or left behind in a chase. I usually left these things alone, but picked up a spear and a backpack. The backpack had food and the spear was still my best weapon. I continued wondering the woods waiting for something to happen. This went on for a while. I began to lose track of time and began to lose my sanity.

It wasn't me. I didn't set the trap for that little girl. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I heard a snap nearby. Something inside of me urged me forward. When I found the net with the person tangled up in it my training completely took over. I threw my spear and before I knew what happened there was an arrow heading for my neck. Time slowed down as I watched the arrow that would end my life, approach my body. I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me. I silently thanked the girl, who I could see out of the corner of my eye, for providing such a quick death for me. The arrow entered my body and as I crumpled to the ground I reached up, pulled it out. And took my last breath smiling at the sun.


	2. Glimmer

"I HATE YOU!"

Those three words continued to echo in my mind. _I hate you. _Those three words were the last thing I heard when leaving District One. _I hate you._ They were also the last words I said before leaving. _I hate you._ I sat on the train with my head in my hands, _I hate you_. The awful thing was, I wasn't sorry. I really had meant to say that, it wasn't a momentary slip in judgment, it was rather an extreme course of emotion that propelled me to say what I'd been feeling for years. _I hate you._ I tried to force myself to find some emotion, something, anything, that proved me to be more human than I felt right now.

I had just been reaped for the 74 annual Hunger Games. I had no hope of ever returning home. I'm currently speeding away at hundreds of miles per hour from my childhood home and I feel nothing. It's as though my momentary burst of passion in the mayor's house has left me completely drained. I can still feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins but it's not carrying anything with it so I feel like a jittery blank slate.

I guess I should explain why I was screaming 'I hate you' at the top of my lungs during my last goodbye to my family. Well family member, there's just me and my mom. My dad was never around and I never had any other siblings but I'm not complaining. My life has been pretty posh. I've never been hungry, never truly wanted for anything, anything tangible that is.

My first memory was my mom surrounded by another group of women, her beauty club. I must have been around five years old.

"Oh she's such a beauty."

"Look at that long blonde hair and those velvet brown eyes!"

"If only my daughter looked like that."

All they did was fawn over me, that's all anyone did my whole life. Now don't get me wrong, I loved being beautiful. Every morning I woke up and ran a bath. I would soak for exactly twenty minutes in hot water and lavender, after rinsing my hair I would step out and brush it until it dried, soft and silky, in golden waves that cascaded all the way down my back. I took care that my face was always clean and that I always got enough sleep so that there was never any discoloration under my eyes. I never worn torn or dirty cloths, and I never repeated the same outfit twice. My mother was a seamstress who made some of the most lovely clothing so this was never a problem. Everything about my life was about remaining beautiful. All in all I had a very soft life. But I wanted was freedom to be myself, to care about appearances but in a healthy way, to express myself and not my mother.

The real issue I faced in District One was the satisfaction that everyone had with the status quo. Everyone knew and accepted that there were the rich, and there were the poor and never the two shall meet. They understood that when children are born that a prospector comes and foretells the child's future, if it is destined to be a beautiful person, it lives if not it is sent off to the Capitol to be trained as a Peacekeeper. And over all, beauty reigns supreme.

The year I turned thirteen my mother determined that I should be Reaped. You see, it's a great honor in District One, here no one believes that the Reaping is actually random, people believe that only the most beautiful people are Reaped, it's the ultimate contest. When you turn eight in District One you are eligible for the yearly competition of the fairest. Since I was eight I had won my age category and usually the District overall title as well, this wasn't enough for my mother any longer. She became obsessive over it, to the point where I was no longer her daughter, but simply a thing to dress up. She took away any childhood I had left. Every day it was the same, beauty treatments, lessons, a never-ending process. At first I voiced my opinions but seeing as this got me nowhere I stopped.

"Congratulations." I said as she entered the room. "You won. You must be so proud. I have to admit, I never thought you'd do it. Not with me working so hard against you."

She walked in, unfazed by the sarcasm that was positively dripping off of every word I said.

"Alright Glimmer, you know the drill..." I effectively tuned her out as she rattled off a list of things I must remember when I was in the Capitol. Does she not care that I, her only child, was about to be sent off to the Hunger Games?

"DO YOU NOT CARE?" I burst out while she was in the middle of talking about the different posture I should maintain for the different positions I'd be in.

"Of course I care, you wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"Mother, it's not all about beauty. Don't you care that you're sending your only child off to be slaughtered in front of the entire nation?"

"I care how you look when you're in front of the entire nation." That was, quite simply, the last straw.

"I HATE YOU!" And suddenly we're both screaming awful things at one another and I'm attacking her but she won't hit me, her beautiful masterpiece, about to go on display. This will be her greatest accomplishment.

I walked in to meet my stylist after having been prepped. My team was very complimentary to me, they told me I was the prettiest tribute they'd ever seen, that I barely needed any prepping. I was sitting at a table, wrapped up in a robe when the stylist walked in. He asked me to remove the robe and come stand in the light. I obliged and after a few minutes he simply nodded his head. Our eyes met and he said,

"This, this we can work with."

I didn't really spend much time with Marvel, my district partner, or my mentor. Not because I didn't want to but because I wanted to spend my last few days exactly how I wanted them for the most part, something I could only do if left alone. So I went to training, but only for a little while. I knew I had no chance anyways. I suppose I did ok during the chariot ride, the training, and the interviews but I wasn't really paying attention. The rest of my time was spent in my room. Imagining a different life, gorging myself on delicious foods that my mother would never let me eat. I lounged around in the most dreadful manner, I chewed with my mouth open, I slouched, I didn't cross my ankles 'just so' when I sat., even though these days were spent mainly in solitude, these were by far the best of my life.


End file.
